Intoxication
by MissCrookedSmile
Summary: One of Batman's villains managed to fill him with alcohol... turns out he is a mean drunk!


Superman waited patiently by the entrance to the cave. Alfred had not given him many clues about what was going on, but it did sound serious, even though the Englishman insisted upon the opposite. He had even called him at the Planet in the middle of the day.

Superman did however not have much time to guess what he thought was going on, before Tim, dressed in civilian clothes, came to let him in.

"I didn't think you worked out of the cave anymore, Mr. Young Justice?" he said to lighten the mood. But Tim just looked down in shame while biting his lip.

"I don't… But Alfred called me."

He closed the gate and carefully punched in the 16-digit code, ending it with a scan of his thumb. He then finally looked up at Superman, looking as troubled as ever.

"I believed Alfred asked you to be discrete about all of this?"

"He did", Superman answered, "but not much else. Could you tell me what's going on?"

Tim looked away again and let out a sigh. What could make him this uneasy? Alfred had repeated over and over again that this was not an emergency "per say", but also that they needed his helped badly "if he could spare the time".

"No one is in any danger, I hope?" Superman asked Tim. Alfred had been known to understate many matters due to his good manners.

"Not per say…" Tim stated as mysteriously as the old Englishman.

In that moment, they reached the cave. Batarangs were flying all over the place, as was Dick and Damian. Damian wasn't in costume either, just like Tim, but he had one of his father's utility belts strapped diagonally across his neck and waist. They were both desperately trying to catch every single batarang before it hit any equipment, but only succeeded 9 out of 10 times. The giant computer screens were already cracked several placed, and small circles of soot were all over, appearing after smoke bombs or exploding batarangs had hit a target.

"Is this some sort of training exercise?" Superman asked wondering, but Tim shook his head. He had finally pulled himself together and managed the courage to explain this ordeal.

"The short version is: Harley Quinn kidnapped Batman, after he had put the Joker in Arkham – again! To make him 'less of a party pooper', she force-fed him half a pan of pot-brownies and made him drink two bottles of whiskey before he got a chance to get loose. That is the story the security cameras tell us at least."

"And Harley Quinn is…?"

"Locked away safe and sound. Nightwing was in town, investigating another case, and he got there just in time to catch her, but he didn't get a chance to stop Batman before he headed back to the cave."

Superman began to connect the pieces of the puzzle.

"So Batman is the one throwing all of those?"

Tim nodded. "He let the car drive him home. As you know, it is not uncommon for him to go without saying goodbye, so Nightwing didn't think any of it. He just called Alfred to let him prepare for a stomach pump."

"Judging from the interior of the batmobile, Master Bruce was kind enough to take care of that himself on his way over."

Alfred had joined the two, while Tim was explaining the situation. He quickly, but discretely, handed Tim a belt, a pair of boots and a set of orders:

"Put these on and help your brothers, dear Timothy. I don't want you to jump around in those decrepit sneakers of yours."

Tim, happy to avoid telling Superman the rest of this particular tale, immediately did as asked. Seconds later, he was jumping around the cave with Damian and Dick, doing everything in his power to prevent any further destruction of their headquarters.

"I am so very pleased you were able to help us better this terrible situation, Mr. Kent." Alfred's smile was tense, but heartwarming.

"No problem, Alfred. But I still don't know exactly what you want me to do. It looks like the boys have a grasp of the situation?"

"Not… exactly" Alfred managed to say, before the rain of artillery stopped.

"Watch out!" Nightwing yelled. "He is trying to get the wings off of the car!"

"You see," Alfred continued as if uninterrupted, "Master Bruce has never experienced these kind of intoxicants before, and apparently…"

"He is a mean drunk?" Superman said, not avoiding a small grin to spread on his face.

"I do not see the reason for your amusement, Mr. Kent!" Alfred said with his school masters voice. "He had nearly killed poor master Damian when he arrived home and decided to test what the button for the rocked engine was for."

A cold and euphoric laughter spread throughout the cave. Dick and Tim was trying to sneak up on each side of the batmobile, Batman had hid behind. Damian was placed high, acting as a look out. He made a hand signal that made Tim go down and Nightwing to close in on the rear end of the car. But Alfred couldn't take anymore: "Oh, for heaven's sake – could you just fly in and grab him before he makes any further trouble?" He sounded annoyed more than anything else.

"Consider it done!" Superman answered in a serious tone before he quickly flew over and grabbed Batman from behind, holding him as forcefully as he could without doing any permanent damage. As soon as Damian saw from above, his muscles eased and he took a deep breath before he let out a sigh of relief. Both Tim and Dick could guess what had happened, before Damian got a chance to signal them.

Batman however wriggled as a mad man, throwing his head from side to side and kicking like a maniac into thin air.

"Calm down, Bruce" Superman tried. "We don't want you to hurt yourself, now do we?"

"SCREW YOU!" He yelled from the top of his lounges, before grapping a small dart coming out of his glove and hauling it in to Superman's crotch. Superman of course didn't even flinch, and the tip of the dart crumbled up like a piece of tin foil. But instead of panicking at this, Batman leaned his head back and poured out that same intoxicated laughter, they had all heard minutes before. He only stopped for a second to say: "Even your junk is super!" Then he started laughing again.

Nightwing had removed his mask before approaching together with Damian and Tim. They both handed their belts to Alfred, as he came around from the other end of the car, Bruce had barricaded himself behind.

"Thanks, Clark." Nightwing said short of breath and with a gratified smile. "He tried a similar trick on me, but I must admit that I- "

"- cried like a girl for 10 minutes?" Damian suggested with a cocky smile. Nightwing returned the insult with a brotherly slap on the back of Damian's head.

"No trouble at all." Superman smiled back, steadily holding Batman like a disobedient child they all waited for to calm down. "But what would you have me do with him?"

Before anyone could answer, Batman kicked as far backwards as he could. Obviously, Superman didn't move, but a high pitched beeping noise started.

"Cover!" Dick yelled, as he and the three other bystanders flew under and behind the batmobile. Barely a second later, a rather large amount of explosives went off and everything was bathed in an intense light, before disappearing in a dark cloud of soot. Had Superman been a millisecond slower, Batman would have taken a considerable hit from the blast as well as gotten hit by the shrapnel. Luckily Superman managed to fall on his back on top of the charge and take most of the blow himself.

"Okay, Bruce. That's quite enough." he said in a way that deliberately showed his irritation over his intoxicated friend's behavior. But Bruce just laughed so hard that he could barely catch his breath. He probably couldn't hear him anyway because of the amount of decibels they had all just experienced.

Alfred cautiously popped his head up over the batmobile and took his fingers out of his ears: "I believe we have to get him out of that suit somehow, sirs."

"Shut up, old man! My house, my rules!" Bruce yelled in a slurred voice that neither resembled Bruce Wayne's nor Batman's. "Ha! I sound just like my father!" Bruce added, before abruptly stopping his laughter and becoming dead silent.

"I miss my father…" he then said, relaxing his entire body, turning himself into dead weight for Superman to carry.

With a silent nod, the boys agreed upon Alfred's plan. While Batman was being still, Dick and Tim quickly grabbed a boot each, while Damian stepped in between his father's legs to get to his belt. Superman tightened the grip as much as he could without breaking any bones or crushing any organs, but it seemed unnecessary. The operation went down more problem free than they had dared hope. But then Batman reached out to Damian with his right hand. He immediately griped it between his two flat hands, forcing it to open and therefore to drop whatever his father had tried to attack him with. But there was nothing. Damian looked surprised, and when he let his guard down for at second, Batman gently placed his hand on the boy's cheek.

"You look so much like him, Damian… I love you so much."

This phrase, coming from Batman's mouth, made all three boys stop and drop their jaws. Batman just looked up on Dick and Tim, seeming not to notice their astonishment.

"I love you all more than anything. All four of you. Do you understand? All of my sons!" He continued in a rasping voice.

Superman thought for a moment that Batman was seeing double, but then he saw his intoxicated friend glance over at Jason's old uniform. He had demanded it put back in its showcase, despite the Red Hood's rampage in Gotham.

Alfred turned out to be the first of them to regain his wits: "Well don't just stand there. Take his gloves!"

They easily removed the rest of his gear. Batman's body had become soft, and his features too, they noticed, as they finally removed his cape and cowl. His eyes were red, but not just because of the drugs and alcohol, it seemed.

"Master Bruce… Are you... Are you crying?" Alfred stammered from the back.

Bruce looked at him, and something even more strange happened: He smiled. A sincere, heartwarming, not to be mistaken for a grin-smile.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked Alfred as silent as he could possibly be and still be sure to get heard.

Alfred stepped closer, taking his place next to the amazed boys. "Always, sir."

"When I was a boy," Batman whispered, "I used to call you 'Dad' in my head. I almost said it out loud a couple of times, but I didn't… I couldn't…" He broke down sobbing, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck, hiding his face in the old man's shoulder. The weight almost knocked Alfred over, but when Dick silently offered to help, he waved him away with a simple gesture.

"I think we can take it from here, Mr. Kent. Thank you so much for your help." He said kindly over Bruce's shoulders, which were going up and down in rapid movements as he wept like a child.

"You sure I can't help you get him to bed, or something?" Superman tried.

"Thank you for the offer, sir, but I really do think that we'll manage." Alfred insisted, as he guided Bruce towards the stairs. Tim fetched a wine red robe hanging on a hook above the second and third step. They hang it on Bruce's shoulders, covering the rest of the bat-suit the best that they could.

Before Dick had a chance to show Superman out of the cave, Bruce had already stopped crying. Instead, he said in a clear voice: "What do you think Selina is doing right now?"


End file.
